Secrets Divulged
by kuppcake
Summary: A collection of one-shots featuring Sherlock and Zoe of "Secrets Kept". The secret is out and the couple must deal with meeting family and friends as well as making sure the media isn't breathing down their necks.
1. Feeling Patriotic

Hello again, everyone! I finally found the time to get started on the one-shots featuring Sherlock and my OC Zoe from the "Secrets Kept" fic. If you hadn't had a chance to read that, I would recommend doing so. It's only five chapters so it's not a long read. A big thank you to everyone who read and left comments on SK. I appreciate it. To kick things off, Sherlock and Zoe hop across the pond to visit Zoe's sister and her family for a very patriotic holiday. No copyright infringement was intended. I also do not own Sherlock or any recognizable characters, places, or references.

Enjoy!

* * *

Sherlock was relieved that he and Zoe's brother in law, Jamal, were nowhere close to being the same size. The doctor had played football for most of his life up until he started medical school. Unlike Sherlock, he had wide shoulders and looked like he spent time in the gym. Zoe didn't have the same luck. Although her sister was seven years older than her, the siblings were both around 5'7 (170 cm) and had the same athletic but curvy build from years of dance and sports.

When Zoe came down to breakfast, she looked very patriotic in her red, white, and blue. She rolled her eyes at Sherlock's smirk. As she moved to help her sister pour everyone a glass of juice he took in her entire look. Her natural hair had been stretched and braided into a fishtail braid that was still drying. The red top she wore was flowy and off the shoulder. Her legs. Sherlock paused. Zara must have caught sight of his reaction because she giggled. Zoe looked over to see what her sister was laughing about.

Zara must have caught sight of his reaction because she giggled. Zoe looked over to see what her sister was laughing about.

"What?" she asked.

"I'll tell you later," her sister answered with a sneaky grin.

The jean shorts Zoe wore were shorter than Sherlock had ever seen her wear. The only time he had seen so much of her legs was when she was in some state of undress. He pushed those thoughts away.

"Don't you dare laugh," she murmured when she sat down next to him at the kitchen table. For breakfast, Zara and her husband pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, and toast just for Sherlock. Zoe had told her sister about that the previous night. Even though he was eating more when they went out or when they stayed the night at one of their flats, his tastes were very simple when it came to breakfast. Being a U.K. native, Zara also had a nice variety of tea in her kitchen, which Sherlock was grateful for. Jamal had teased them the first morning, calling it another British invasion when he found Zoe, Sherlock, and Zara in the kitchen conversing over tea and biscuits.

"If you really wanted you could argue that you wearing British colors as well," Sherlock said.

Zoe only rolled her eyes and shook her head fondly.

Today was day three of their scheduled five-day trip to the States. Sherlock was definitely missing his chair in Baker Street. Over the first two days, Zara led them around some popular spots in New York although they had both seen most of them; Zara a while back while on the promotional tour for her first novel, Sherlock while on travel for cases, although he never really paid much attention to the iconic spots. He had spent quite a bit of the subway train ride from New Jersey to New York making silent deductions about those around them. Zoe's ten-year-old nephew Reggie had excitedly tagged along telling her all kinds of stories about school, baseball, and his friends. They also walked around the campus of Columbia University where Zara taught during the school year.

After breakfast, Zoe volunteered to help do the dishes but was waved off as Zara asked Sherlock to help and suggested Zoe help Jamal set up for the barbecue happening later that day. Sherlock predicted the move and prepared himself for whatever conversation was about to happen. After Reggie scurried off to play his Xbox, Zara grabbed the bottle of dish soap and a sponge before getting to work. She didn't speak until Sherlock was placing the first plate on the bottom rack of the dishwasher. He didn't understand the point of washing the items twice but kept silent on the matter.

"Zoe explained a bit to me about the kind of person you are. I've tried to avoid Googling you, but I did come across a few not so pleasant comments before I really committed to no more internet searches," she began. "I just- I just want to make sure you really care about her and that this isn't some sort of experiment or way to get some dirt on someone she knows for a case. Saw one article about an ex-girlfriend or something bragging about the sex. That was an awkward headline to explain to our mum."

Sherlock's ears flushed. "I-Yes, well. That was for a case. Janine's stories were also fabricated so she could make money out of her scorn for the lie I created. My relationship with your sister, however, is not for a case. It is genuine. I will admit that I am not the best person when it comes to social interactions and relationships, but I try for her and find comfort in her acceptance," he said not taking his gaze from the plate. He wasn't comfortable discussing his feelings, but he knew it was important to reassure your significant other's loved ones that you would treat the one they cared about well. It was something John had mentioned before Sherlock had left. It was one of the reasons he was glad that John knew about Zoe and their relationship. He could go to the doctor for his opinion and advice when his friend wasn't busy changing diapers and adapting to fatherhood.

Zara gave him a small smile before nodding. "Please take care her, Sherlock. Her last boyfriend, he was a complete prat in the end. He was nice at first. He would help her study for exams in university, bring her all of her favorites when she wasn't felling well. She adored him and went out of her way to make him happy. She even went back home from our mom's birthday one year because he was having a difficult time in law school. After graduation, he didn't want her to have her own success. He encouraged her quite a bit to consider simply writing as a hobby and not pursuing it as a career after she got the attention of some publishing houses and agents. She overheard him telling his friends that he wanted her to stay home. " she said.

Sherlock frowned at the thought of someone trying to block Zoe from pursuing something she was so very passionate about. He imagined that if he ever ran into Zoe's ex-boyfriend scathing words would not be hard to come by. "He was an idiot. Probably realized a woman like Zoe wouldn't stick around long if she had her own. He aimed to keep her dependent on him." Sherlock said.

"And he was an asshole, but idiot works too," she said before handing the detective another plate.

* * *

Zoe fanned the smoke from the grill away from her face as she poured herself another glass of sangria. She wondered if her sister ever felt weird celebrating another country's independence from her home country. July in Jersey City, New Jersey was humid. If it was up to her the barbecue would be held inside in the air conditioning.

On the patio, Sherlock stood with her sister and her son Reggie in the shade provided by the awning attached to the two story home. Jamal and Zara had a few friends over who were polite enough when they were introduced earlier. There were a few lingering stares and facial expressions that made Sherlock decide to create distance from some of the couple's neighbors, but no one had said anything rude...yet. Music was playing in the background and Zoe was thankful for the trees in the backyard for blocking quite a bit of the sun without having to be trapped on the patio.

As Zoe walked back towards the patio she picked up on the conversation.

"So, am I supposed to call you Uncle Sherlock?"

Sherlock was mid sip and choked a bit on his water at the question. He looked down at the young boy with a frown before shooting Zoe a glance. To anyone else, he looked uncomfortable, but she knew he was panicking with the eyes of not only her nephew but everyone else at the barbecue on him.

"How about no. Just call him Mr. Sherlock," Zara said stepping in. She gave Sherlock a small smile.

"Sherlock is fine," the detective said after a moment. Zara looked at him for a second to make sure he was really okay with it and not just saying it before nodding her head.

"Auntie Zo said you're a detective. Do you really chase bad guys and get shot at? I saw that once on _SVU_ ," Reggie said.

"Who let you watch _SVU_?" "What's _SVU_?" Zara and Sherlock said at the same time.

Jamal rubbed the back of his head with a nervous chuckle as he sat a tray of cooked hamburgers on the food table that had been set up. Zoe was fond of the doctor. The first time they met was when at Zara's college graduation from Harvard. Zoe had only been a teenager at the time. His family, the Leslies had been kind to Zoe when she met them at the couple's wedding almost twelve years ago.

"He must have caught of few moments when I was watching it the other night," Jamal said. Zara glared at him playfully.

" _Law and Order: SVU_ is a television show about a Special Victims Unit of a New York police department," Zoe said to Sherlock.

"Most cop shows chose the wrong person to be the killer. Most of the time another character has a better motive than the person who ends up being guilty at the end of the episode," Sherlock said.

Zoe quirked an eyebrow.

"John was watching something similar once. The writing was horrid," he said at her look.

"John would be the Dr. Watson, right? I saw a few articles on the internet," Jamal said.

Zoe nodded. She knew Jamal and John would hit it off, both being medical men. Jamal's brother Jordan was also in the U.S. Army. She imagined that the pair together would be an entertaining site as well. Jamal was a 6'3 (190 cm), African American man, while John was just 5'6 (167 cm). Sherlock made sure not to mention that even Zoe was taller than the army doctor when in his presence.

For the rest of the day, it seemed that Reggie had endless questions for Sherlock. A few of Zara's friends wanted to know about Zoe's book, so in between nudging Sherlock to censor some of his recollections of cases, she discussed a little bit of her forthcoming novel. It wasn't long until her sister and several of her friends pulled her away from the men to discuss other things. She was more than happy to separate from the group after one of Jamal's friends tried to flirt with her when Sherlock had gone to get her more food. It wasn't the guy's first attempt either. He had gone to school with Jamal and attended their wedding.

"So how did you two meet?" Madeline, one of Zara's co-workers asked. Zoe like Madeline. The woman was one of the most genuine of her sister's friends. She worked as a photojournalist for National Geographic. It was easy to tell by her tan lines that she had recently traveled somewhere with plenty of sunshine.

"I was working on a story and he was working a case in Madrid. We ran into each other in a museum and had an unorthodox dinner together two nights later," Zoe said.

"And there haven't been any problems or anything with his line of work?" Zara asked.

"You mean me being in danger? No, we've kept things away from the press quite well so far." She didn't even want to imagine the extra stress of publically being the girlfriend of Sherlock Holmes. It was in that moment that was very grateful that Moriarty was no more. Sherlock hadn't faced the same quality of criminal lately and she found a bit of comfort in that.

Zoe took a bite of the cupcake in her hand and found Sherlock's eyes across the yard. He was giving her a look she couldn't understand. She gave him a confused shrug before returning her gaze to the circle of women around her as one of them spoke again. Her phone chose that moment to vibrate. _I'll check it later._

"I don't mean to be rude, but he seems a bit odd," another woman said. She was a mousy looking caucasian woman in an all white romper.

"There's no way that statement could be not rude, Jess," Zara said folding her arms across her chest.

Zoe frowned before straightening her expression as she finished chewing. She looked the blonde woman in the eye as she spoke.

"Sherlock is very intelligent. Genius level really. It seems that smartest people are always a bit odd, doesn't it? I think that's only because us average people can't quite see things the way they do. It doesn't change the fact that he treats me well," Zoe said.

"Is he good in bed?" And that would be Cassie, the seventeen-year-old daughter of their next door neighbor. Zoe resisted the urge to facepalm.

The young woman's mother gawked as her cheeks flushed. "Cassie, you do not ask people questions like that!"

Cassie only shrugged in response.

"I believe I'm going to go get some more food. If you all would excuse me," Zoe said before walking away from the group. She grabbed another cupcake and a bottle of wine from the cooler before heading inside the house. She was glad to find the living room empty and the air conditioning on, creating a quiet and cool spot for her to relax. She placed her glass and the bottle on the side table and pulled her cellphone from her back pocket before she sat down.

 **1 Message from Sherbear**

The blonde doesn't like me. Prepare for something rude. -SH

 _A little too late for that now_ , she thought to herself.

It didn't take long for Sherlock to find her. "I probably should have informed you that she was going to ask a sex question. She eyed me a little too long when they arrived," he said sitting next to her on the couch. He sat down the beer Jamal had convinced him to try.

Zoe huffed and tucked herself into his side careful not to spill her drink. "I just read your text. I'm sure if I had had more to drink I would have made a scene. Zara said they were nice people, but…" she trailed off.

"Nice to your sister and her family, but in the face of strangers or someone a little different than what they're used to and they can flip a switch easily," Sherlock said.

The pair sat quietly for a moment before he spoke again. "The men have been better company. Jamal was explaining Juneteenth to me. It's disappointing how much gets left out of the history books and curriculums. Vince has been a little passive aggressive. I'm assuming he has a thing for you."

She nodded but didn't add anything to his observation. "Think you can tolerate sports and doctor talk?" he asked.

She gave him a small smile. "I'd prefer it to answering questions about our sex life," she said. He scrunched up his nose at the comment. "I'm quite happy with it if you must know though," she added. He rolled his eyes and pulled her up from the sofa. "Vince would be unhappy to hear that," he murmured.

As the sky grew dark, Zoe and Sherlock listened as Reggie and his young friends talked about school, superhero movies, and the latest videos. After being surrounded by adults all day, it was nice to listen in on a simpler conversation. The four boys and two girls were thoroughly enjoying popsicles and ice cream as they waited for the fireworks to begin.

"I mean wouldn't Iron Man get hot in his suit during the summer?" one of the boys asked. Zoe saw that Sherlock was lost when it came to superhero talk and patted his knee. He looked over a bit disgruntled. "I'll explain later," she whispered.

"The suit probably has a self-cooling system. He's a genius. I'm sure he built himself air conditioning or something," Zoe said to the children.

They nodded absorbing what she had said. "I want a suit like Riri Williams has," one of the young girls said. "Me too, but I want to fight like Black Widow," the other said.

Before the boys could respond the first boom of a firework echoed in the distance. The adults watched in amusement as the children scrambled over to the edge of the yard to get a better view.

"I wonder how much people in this country spend on fireworks every year," Sherlock said during a lull in the cheers and booms.

"Just enjoy them. They're nice to look at," she said.

He hummed and took in the view.

* * *

This was actually and surprisingly well timed since Independence Day is tomorrow here in the States. I started writing this last month and finally really buckled down. Review and let me know what you think. Are there any moments you want me to feature in one of the future one-shots? Next time: Zoe is introduced to the people in Sherlock's life. FYI these one-shots won't be chronological.

Until next time, K


	2. Meetings

Here's the next one shot in _Secrets Divulged_. Sorry for the delay. I've been out of town with crappy hotel wifi and then hit a bit of creative drought. Now, I'm home and little refreshed. Remember, these shots aren't chronological, so the events in this are set before Sherlock  & Zoe go to the U.S to visit her sister in July. This one picks up right from where _Secrets Kept_ ended. I don't own anything but Zoe. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

 **Not Your Housekeeper**

 _Sunday Morning_

After John and Mycroft left, Sherlock huffed and fell back into his chair, his robe fluttering around him. "Mother…he had to tell our mother!" Sherlock said. His facial expression reminded Zoe of a child who had tasted a lemon for the first time.

"Well, from what you told me your brother likes to pry. Today should be unsurprising," she said shrugging her shoulders.

For John and Mycroft to show up this morning meant they had been watching for Sherlock to do something. Bringing her over last night had been the sign Mycroft needed to swoop in. Zoe imagined the encounter would have happened a lot sooner if she hadn't been so busy lately.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "My mother will hound me until she meets you. I can already hear questions about babies and family gatherings," he said. Zoe laughed at the way he visibly shuttered at the thought. They were far off from even discussing children. She wouldn't be adverse to meeting his family though.

"Your dramatics are only going to make this more stressful. Just schedule a meeting and get it over with. I'm more than capable of fielding questions," she said sitting on the arm of his chair. She gently wrapped a curl around her finger before letting it fall free and spring back into shape.

Sherlock only grunted.

"Can we get back in bed until Mrs. Hudson is awake or are you up for the day?" she asked.

"If today had gone as planned we wouldn't have gotten out of bed in the first place," he grumbled.

"Come on, grumpy," Zoe said. She pulled his lithe form up from his hunched position in the chair and led him back into the bedroom.

They had been lying together for a few moments when a thought occurred to Zoe. She sat up and let her gaze sweep the corners of the room slowly. Her frown caught Sherlock's attention.

"Finally realizing how invasive my brother can be?" he asked.

"I'm just wondering what kind of resources he's been using to keep track of us. We certainly get up to things and the thought of cameras is unsettling," Zoe said.

"There are no cameras. I checked for those right after the gala and have continued to do so since. If there were cameras Mycroft and his team would have seen more of me than they would wish to. I don't think anyone would complain about you though," he said while still lying down.

"It's not the complaining I'm worried about," she murmured before she got comfortable again. The thought of some government techie seeing her in their private moments did not sit well with her. She doubted it would work, but she thought about bugging Mycroft until he gave up the details of the surveillance. Deciding to let the matter go for the meantime, she playfully tugged some of the blankets away from Sherlock who pulled them tightly around himself in retaliation. She giggled and sighed into the pillow beneath her head.

When the couple woke up for the second time, Zoe felt more rested. With a quick stretch, she climbed out of bed and decided to take a shower before Sherlock used all the hot water, which had happened before. Sometimes he got lost in his mind palace while he showered, which led to extended time in the shower before she had to knock on the door to get him moving again. After showering, she put her toiletries back in the overnight bag she used to store her belongings and went out into the kitchen to make tea. She wore a pair of light-wash jeans, a gray Star Wars t-shirt, and a pair of black and gray Adidas sneakers.

After several minutes passed and Sherlock didn't emerge from his room, she realized he was dragging his feet.

"You are aware that I will go downstairs and meet Mrs. Hudson with or without you, correct?" she called out.

No response. She narrowed her eyes and went to see what he was doing. She found him staring at the ceiling. He didn't move when she cleared her throat and leaned against the door frame.

"I'm sure she'd loved to hear more about how romantic you can be," Zoe said.

Nothing. Rolling her eyes, she turned on her heel and returned to the kitchen where her still steaming cup of tea was sitting. She picked it up and headed down to the flat below. It didn't take long for the door to open after a knock.

The landlady wore a confused, but polite expression. "Hello, dear. How can I help you?" she asked.

 _Probably wondering how I got in the front door._

"I'm Zoe, Sherlock's girlfriend. I just wanted to come down and say thank you for the cake you made for my birthday. It was delicious," she said with a smile.

The older woman gasped. "Oh, hello! I'm so glad you enjoyed it. When Sherlock mentioned the occasion it took me a moment to wrap my head around it, but then when I really thought about it I wasn't surprised. I mean the flat smelled like perfume once or twice. I figured he realized it and starting opening the windows after you left. It's not hard to notice when someone actually keeps food in the fridge and no limbs," Mrs. Hudson said, her reply quickly turning into rambling.

Mrs. Hudson proceeded to pull the younger woman into a hug.

Zoe couldn't help but chuckle at the woman's energy as she returned the embrace. It was warm and cheerful.

"I'm glad to finally meet you," Zoe said. She continued but a little louder. "I also wanted to apologize if we've ever been too loud, especially last night. Sherlock was extra romantic and —"

"Mrs. Hudson! Where is my tea?" Sherlock called from upstairs, cutting Zoe off. She grinned.

Mrs. Hudson rolled her eyes. "I'm your landlady, not your housekeeper!" she replied.

"The kettle should still be hot," Zoe called up the stairs.

The pair listened as his footsteps faded away from the landing.

"Would you like to join me for breakfast, dear?" Mrs. Hudson said.

Zoe looked away from the stairs and nodded. "That sounds wonderful."

The pair enjoyed the meal as they discussed all of the crazy antics Mrs. Hudson had to put up with as Sherlock's landlady, Zoe's job, how the couple met, and Mrs. Hudson's late husband.

As the woman spoke, it wasn't hard to see that she was smarter than most people gave her credit for. The flat was well kept with items from travel resting on a shelf in the sitting area. From her spot at the kitchen table, Zoe admired Mrs. Hudson's decor, especially the beading that hung in front of the back door entrance.

"Oh, those two just got into all kinds of things. John's blog is a good read if you find the time to give it a glance," Mrs. Hudson said.

Zoe nodded. "I"ve heard about it, but haven't had the time to give it a good read," she said.

She made a mental note to check out the doctor's famous blog.

* * *

 **Craig**

"You're joking, right?" Lestrade asked incredulously into the phone. He was on his way into Scotland Yard on Monday, trying to balance his mobile phone against his ear, a newspaper under his arm, and a cup of coffee. The caffeine was just what he needed. The man wondered for a moment if he was still half asleep and simply misheard what John had said.

"Not at all. We walked in and she was there. Clothes were all over the flat. It was awkward," John said. "Turns out they met while he was away and they've been together officially since just before he came back," the doctor continued.

"Hold on a moment," Lestrade said walking into the station. He nodded and greeted the officers and detectives around him before retreating into his office, hoping that nobody needed him at the moment.

"Sherlock has a girlfriend? Is she weird? What does she look like?" he questioned after he closed the door behind him.

"She was very nice, given the circumstances. And she's beautiful. You'd have to see her for yourself," John answered.

"I need to see this with my own two eyes," the detective inspector replied.

It took two weeks for Lestrade to have a legitimate reason to drop by Baker Street. John and Sherlock were working on a case and he needed to bring them new files. Usually, he emailed them but the doctor had texted and told him that Sherlock's girlfriend was at Baker Street at the moment. It wasn't long until the detective inspector was standing in the sitting area, trying not to get caught looking around.

"I bought over the new case files. It looks like there was more than one person's blood on the knife found at the scene," Lestrade said placing the folder on Sherlock's desk.

"Do you think Mr. Roads fought back then? Maybe he injured his killer and we should be checking hospitals for anyone who came in with stabbing injuries," John said.

"She's downstairs," Sherlock said.

Lestrade and John shared a look before Lestrade turned to the consulting detective with a confused expression.

"What?" Lestrade said.

"Zoe. John has probably been gossiping about her like Mrs. Hudson and her friends gossip about basically everything. She is downstairs at the moment if you want to go and make sure she's not a figment of my imagination or a woman hired to keep me company. Better yet, share that theory with her," Sherlock answered not looking up from his laptop.

Knowing he was caught, Greg gave his friend a sheepish look. "I was just curious," he said quietly.

"Isn't there a phrase that says, 'Curiosity killed the cat.'" Sherlock said.

Before Lestrade could answer a female voice spoke. "But satisfaction brought it back. Zombie cat, but still."

The three men turned to find Zoe standing in the doorway. She wore a canary yellow, pleated o-neck, sleeveless dress that complimented her brown complexion and a pair of gold, metallic sandals. Her cheek bones were dusted with a light brush of golden highlight that made her glow beautifully. Today was a day where the sun graced the city with its presence.

"Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen, but I'm headed out to meet with my editor. Just wanted to let you know before I run off," she said focusing on Sherlock. She did give the other two a smile though.

Lestrade stood frozen as he took her in. Sherlock, not liking the way the inspector stared, spoke suddenly as he stood swiftly.

"This is Craig Lestrade. Craig, this is Zoe. Introductions have been made and case files have been shared. I will let you know when we have something," Sherlock said making a shooing motion at the man.

"It's Greg, Sherlock," John said with a huff.

"Nice to meet you, Inspector. I'm familiar with your work. It's part of the whole journalism gig," Zoe said kindly.

"Right, hello," Lestrade said shaking himself from his stupor.

"I wish I could stay and chat longer, but I'm already a little late. Mrs. Hudson has a lot to say and kept trying to feed me more," she said, chuckling at the last bit. She popped over and kissed Sherlock on the cheek before heading out.

"Until next time, gentlemen," she said with a wave over her shoulder.

After the front door closed downstairs, Lestrade turned to Sherlock with wide eyes. "She might as well be a bloody supermodel."

* * *

 **Diaper Duty**

 _Friday Evening_

"She's not going to shoot you or anything," Sherlock said. The low sounds coming from Zoe's record player that sat on the side table made him glance at the device. "What is this?"

"Turn it up," she requested. He did. After a moment she spoke again. "I'm sure you've heard of or at least have heard a song by Prince. It's called "Purple Rain"," Zoe said poking her head out of her bedroom down the hall. Sherlock was sitting on the couch in her flat.

"And I'm more nervous that Mary has a bad taste in her mouth from the last media-related person she dealt with. I mean she shot you because you interrupted her from killing him. She may be a little tense around people who collect facts and tell stories for a living," she said, now back in her room.

Sherlock scoffed and ran a hand through his curls. "Purple rain sounds dangerous. It doesn't sound healthy for anything it falls on," he began. "Regardless, you and Magnussen are completely different breeds of people. We wouldn't be standing here if you were anything like him," he said. Sherlock pulled his phone from his suit jacket pocket and tapped away the screen, letting John know they'd be heading over soon.

A cough-like noise came from Zoe's room. "I'm not even going to get into the meaning behind the song. Also, I'm going to be nervous regardless of what you say at this point. John and Mary are your friends and I want to get along with them," Zoe said.

She said nothing of how strange she thought it was to be friends with someone who shot you. At the sound of her heels clicking on the wood floor, Sherlock looked up. "Are these shoes too dressy?" she asked.

His eyes focused on the navy blue pumps on Zoe's feet before meeting her eyes. "John and Mary are a very casual pair. We are not. The shoes are fine," he said.

"Let's do this," Zoe said. He grabbed her lightweight jacket from the rack near the door while she grabbed her purse.

"I wish we could have gone out somewhere, but it's really a hassle to find a nanny sometimes," John said as he led Zoe and Sherlock into the home he shared with Mary, and now their young daughter Rosie.

Zoe gave the doctor a smile and shook her head. "This is more than okay, John. It would have been more of a hassle for the four of us to try and go out without drawing a crowd," she said.

"Yes, but now we'll have to survive Rosie's crying," Sherlock mumbled. Zoe nudged him. "As long as she's dried, feed, and comfortable she should be okay. Rosie is still at the age where she sleeps quite a bit," Zoe said.

"You've dealt with children before?" John asked.

She understood the unstated "Any kids of your own?".

"My older sister has a son. He's ten now."

John nodded and led them into a cozy sitting area where Mary gently rocked Rosie. She looked up at the trio's entrance. "Hi, I'm just trying to get her down for the night. We should be okay for a while after that," she said. Zoe walked forward and peeked at the little one who was fighting sleep on her mother's shoulder. Her eyelids would droop, only to fly back open.

"She's beautiful," Zoe said giving Mary and John a smile. The couple expressed their thanks before Mary asked John to turn off everything on the stove and set the table. The man obliged while Sherlock and Zoe sat down on the sofa. They took in the toys that sat in the room as well as all of the baby-proofed corners and electric plugs.

It wasn't hard for Zoe to admit to herself that she was nervous about getting to know John Watson and his wife. John was a big part of the detective's life. It wasn't hard to tell from the media coverage and from chatting with Mrs. Hudson that the doctor's friendship had taught Sherlock a lot about emotions, social cues, and how most "normal" people interact with each other. She knew that without this friendship, Sherlock would have never shown up at that restaurant after their first encounter.

As for Mary, Sherlock decided it was best not to keep secrets. He had explained several days ago what happened last year with Magnussen, and how they had all come to a sort of understanding. It was still difficult for Zoe to imagine anyone other than Sherlock Holmes being able to stay friends with someone who shot them. She had planned to be friendly for his sake and try her best not to appear uncomfortable.

Sherlock brought her out of thoughts with a comment about how expensive children are because of all the new ways companies tried to sell you to protect and entertain them. Zoe agreed that they were not cheap, but that so many of the new items were actually helpful.

"We didn't have socket plugs and Mycroft and I never electrocuted ourselves," he murmured.

After a few moments in comfortable silence, Mary came back downstairs. "She's out like a light," she said. "Let's have dinner, shall we?" she continued gesturing towards the table that John had set.

Zoe was actually surprised at the table layout. John had put down placemats, napkins, silverware (including a salad fork), and glasses. She didn't imagine he was a salad fork kind of man. She wasn't even sure if Sherlock had more than a few pieces of silverware in his flat. _Mrs. Hudson probably replaces what he does have when he uses them for experiments._

As Zoe and Sherlock joined the Watsons, Sherlock pulled a chair out for Zoe to sit. He paid no mind to John and Mary's surprised faces. John shrugged and followed his friend's lead and pulled out a chair for his wife, who rolled her eyes at the action but took a seat.

After the meal, John seemed excited to ask questions. "Weren't you weirded out by some stranger asking to kiss you in public in a foreign country?"

Zoe laughed heartily for a moment while Sherlock glared at his friend.

"That's kind of smooth if you ask me," Mary said, "John told me the story," she continued, directing the statement at Zoe.

"It didn't hurt that he looks the way he does. I was intrigued and it felt like something out of a movie or a book. As a writer, it drew my attention for sure," Zoe said.

"I wouldn't put it past Sherlock to fake a criminal investigation to get someone's number," John said teasing his friend.

"I would not, that's too much work," Sherlock replied. John chuckled.

Mary smirked. "How did you get Zoe's number?"

Zoe could have sworn Sherlock was turning pink. "I simply asked at a later date," he said avoiding eye contact with them.

Not wanting to make him too uncomfortable, she drew the couple's attention back to her. It didn't take long to explain how Sherlock had pretty much entertained her with his knowledge over the days following that unexpected dinner. There were walks through the bodegas, conversations over food while sitting near fountains, and moments of silence watching the sun set.

They parted three days later as Sherlock went after another spider on Moriarty's web and Zoe back to London to finish and publish her article. The address to her fan mail P.O. box was the only way to keep in touch.

At first, Zoe didn't have much hope that a letter would actually come. Two weeks later, Sherlock's first letter arrived. She had made sure her publicist was on the lookout for it so it didn't get sorted with the other letters.

"Sherlock, a romantic letter writer. Who would have guessed?" Mary said with a grin.

Sherlock huffed. "You've met. Can we go home now?"

A cry from upstairs interrupted any responses. They all looked towards the stairs. "Do you want to learn how to change a diaper, Sherlock? I think it's overdue," Mary said.

Zoe couldn't hold back a laugh at Sherlock's horrified expression.

* * *

I rewrote parts of this more than once because I wasn't sure how I wanted Zoe to feel around Mary. Next up, it's Sherlock's turn to meet Zoe's friends and Mama Holmes finally gets Sherlock to answer the phone. We'll also have our couples first interaction with the press soon.

-K


	3. Better in Person

Hello, all. Here's the next chapter, finally! I apologize for the wait. I don't own anything except for Zoe and the other originals characters and original storylines. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

The sound of three-inch heels clicking on the marble floor made the doorman look up from the newspaper he was reading. He smiled. "My daughter finally got around to reading your book, Ms. Howard. She loved it and is looking forward to the next one," he said to the woman as he opened and held the glass door liked he'd done a hundred of times that day. She was one of the more pleasant people he crossed paths with in his job.

Zoe was in the middle of turning on her phone when he spoke. She looked up and returned his smile as she tossed her phone back into her black handbag. "I'm glad to hear it, Randall. Let her know I'm working on the sequel and she may or may not get a signed copy" she said with a wink. Randall was an older gentleman with a daughter in university. He had always been pleasant to her during their brief encounters.

"She'll be thrilled! Have a good evening, Ms. Howard," he said with a brighter smile and a wave.

"You too, Randall," she said before continuing outside. As the door of the building housing the London Script offices closed behind her, her phone began to ring. She sighed in frustration and dug around in her purse for the device that seemed to already be at the bottom of the bag somehow. When she finally found it, she glanced down at the display to see her publicist's name.

"Hello, Lily," she said answering a little apprehensively. She could only hope that there weren't any last minute events tonight. It was Wednesday and all she wanted to do was get home and relax with some comfort food like some pasta or maybe something barbecue and her favorite television shows. It was only midweek but mentally she was more than ready for the weekend.

"Hey, Howard. I just wanted to give you a schedule update. Mr. Holmes called and asked me to make sure that you were free Saturday after next," the woman said.

She paused in her walk, eyebrows drawing together as she tried to think. The sound of the traffic nearby was mildly distracting. _Did we make plans that I forgot about? Dinner with Natalia is this weekend, but nothing else is planned._

She focused back on her surroundings just in time to walk around a man and his small dog. She gave a smile when the dog yipped at her. "Did he say why?" she asked, starting her walk to the tube station.

"He mentioned going to see his parents. His text messages didn't sound very happy. I'm not even sure how he got my number unless you gave it to him," Lily said, huffing towards the end.

Zoe took in the fact that she was going to be meeting Mr. and Mrs. Holmes very soon before the rest of what Lily said clicked into place. "He has your number in case of emergencies and he can't reach me on my phone. Mine has been off most of the day," she explained to her longtime publicist and friend.

The senior editor of the Script kept her in staff meetings throughout the day surrounding some recent story pitches. As a freelancer, she usually missed smaller meetings, so she was required to come in for bigger ones. Today was one of those days. Zoe had left her phone off to stay focused on a particularly challenging piece afterward.

"Ah, gotcha. Well, good luck meeting his parents. I know you're probably on your way home, so I'll chat with you later," Lily said.

"Bye," Zoe said before hanging up. She made it to the station and quickly swiped her oyster card.

Once she was seated in the train carriage next to a mother and her adorable young child, she checked her phone again and saw several texts from earlier in the day.

 **[Sherbear]: Is your schedule clear Saturday after next? SH**

 **? SH**

 **I'm assuming your phone is simply off. Will text your schedule woman. SH**

 **Considered sending Lestrade to check on you, but he's purposely ignoring my texts today. SH**

She couldn't help but smile when she read that he referred to Lily as her "schedule woman". She was also glad that Lestrade wasn't an option. She could picture that scene in her head now.

 _"Um, Mr. Scott. There's a Detective Inspector Lestrade from Scotland Yard here to see Ms. Howard, " Rebecca the Script's secretary said peeking into the room._

 _Zoe wanted to sink down into her chair as everyone in the meeting room turned to look at her._

 _"What'd you do this time, Zo? Planning a piece on someone dangerous," Emil said nudging her side._

 _"Excuse me for a moment," she said before jumping up and going to meet Lestrade in the lobby. When she spotted him, she pulled him away from the curious faces of her co-workers._

 _"What's going on? Did he get into some kind of trouble?" she said lowly._

 _Lestrade frowned. "No, he sent me here to check on you. Apparently, you weren't answering your phone. He said something about a co-worker possibly giving you hard time, bordering on harassment," he said, looking around for a possible offender when he mentioned the harassment._

 _Zoe facepalmed. "My phone is off and nobody has been harassing me. The senior editor asked me out like a year ago but that's it. Sherlock won't let it go," she told him._

 _Lestrade sighed deeply. "So, I rushed down her for nothing," he huffed._

 _"It would seem so. I'm so sorry, Greg. I owe you a drink sometime, okay?" she said._

 _The irritated man nodded. "We should put the tab under his name," he said._

She quickly texted Sherlock back before the train left the station, while she still had reception.

 **Zoe: Sorry, my phone was on silent and or powered off most of the day. Seeing your parents next weekend?**

When she got service while stopping at the next station, his reply popped up.

 **[Sherbear]: Who told you? SH**

 _So he's forgotten already that he contacted Lily._ She quickly typed out a reply before the train pulled off again. It was frustrating trying to play hide and seek with mobile service down here.

 **Zoe: Lily. She called to let me know about the schedule updates. She does it all the time to make sure professional life and personal life don't get tangled up.**

 **[Sherbear]: Right, yes. The woman you pay to tell you what you're doing for the day. SH**

Zoe couldn't help but roll her eyes at his description.

 **Zoe: No, she keeps track of what I'm doing in order to schedule appearances and other logistical things. She's also in charge of keeping my public image nice. My PR guru essentially.**

Sometimes, Zoe thought that Sherlock could use a publicist. She imagined that he'd go through several in a week with the way he bluntly spoke to the press or some of the tweets he sent out. She'd seen John or Lestrade nudging him a few times after particularly "not good" statements during a press conference. It took Sherlock two stops to reply. When she read it she could see the reason for the delay.

 **[Sherbear]:** **Mycroft informed me she kept a photo of us out of the media and offline recently. What does that say about how our relationship would impact your "image"?**

She couldn't tell through text whether he was angry or hurt by Lily's interference. His words and the implication did not sit well with her. They had mutually decided when he returned to try to remain out of the public eye. He had cited that the last time he became a tabloid favorite, his enemy had used it against him. It was a place that he didn't want to revisit.

For Zoe, her recent popularity as a writer didn't change the fact that she was genuinely a private person. She thought of celebrity couples and public figures pictured stealing a kiss with their significant other and cringed at the idea of being photographed like that. She knew Sherlock was in no way a fan of PDA in the first place, so as slim as their chances were at being captured in such a moment, she knew that if it did happen he would close himself off.

Now, he was making it sound like she was the one hiding it to save herself some kind of embarrassment. If she wasn't on a crowded train and had better service, she would have called him immediately and probably said something unpleasant. Instead, she took a deep breath and tapped out a response quickly and hit send when she got mobile reception again.

 **Zoe: It doesn't "say" anything. I asked her to minimize media attention until we had decided we were ready to go public. I can tweet a picture now if you'd like. You in your PJs sound good?**

The last bit was snarky and probably a bit petty but he was confusing and it was frustrating.

 **[Sherbear]: No. SH**

She paused for a moment and thought of a plan. If he wanted reassurance, she would give it to him.

 **Zoe: Are you home?**

 **[Sherbear]: Yes. Why? SH**

She didn't respond. At the next station, she got off. On the sidewalk, waving down a taxi, she also waved at a teenager who stood with his mouth agape. He took a nervous step forward and said hi and how big of a fan he was. She thanked him with a smile and posed for a selfie, just as taxi rolled to a stop. She went to get in, but not before catching sight of a pair of men with camera equipment nearby. It wasn't rare to see them, especially when television shows and films were filming in the city or a celebrity was out and about. As a writer, she didn't count herself as a celebrity. A public figure with fans, sure? Celebrity, not quite. When her book first hit the best-seller list, she dealt with people stopping her for photos and even autographs if they had the book on them. With the big article this year and TV and radio interviews, she dealt with paparazzi trying to learn more about her as a rising media voice. She normally did a good job of dodging them.

She made eye contact with one of the men, before quickly looking away. She smoothed down her hair a bit and sent a text to Lily as the taxi pulled away just in case.

* * *

Sherlock pulled his bow across the strings of his violin, creating a slow and miserable sounding echo of his internal thoughts. He was relieved that neither John or Mrs. Hudson was around to hear the sound. John was probably finishing up at work and Mrs. Hudson was out with friends who were in the city for the week. They would surely ask him what was wrong. It was a conversation he did not want to have at the moment.

She didn't respond. He hated surprises. He was certain she knew this. He looked down at the phone that rested on the arm of his chair and waited as if a message would land in his inbox at any moment. It did not.

It wasn't until half an hour later when he had laid down his violin and began an experiment that he got any kind of answer. He heard the doorbell ring downstairs but didn't move to answer. Zoe would call ahead of time and any clients could tweet or email him. It wasn't long until Mrs. Hudson walked into the flat with Zoe behind her.

The younger woman was still dressed in work attire in a knee-length burgundy skirt and white blouse. Her curly hair was pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck and makeup was the minimum today with mascara and a berry-colored lipstick. By the way she was standing, he knew she was more than ready to take off her heels. He let his eyes scan her more closely.

 _Tired. Long day of having to be in the office. New photographer for the paper asked her out for drinks. Frustrated...with me._

"Sherlock, why didn't you answer the door? Zoe was lucky that I came home when I did," Mrs. Hudson scolded.

"I wasn't expecting you," he said shortly, ignoring his landlady. "Especially not with food," he continued as he caught sight of the bag in her hand. He pushed the protective goggles he wore up onto his forehead and put the beaker in his hand down, the light blue mixture slowly turning purple.

"Yes, I know," she said. She eyed his expression for a moment. "I don't have to stay if you're busy or want some quiet time this evening," she said trying to gauge his mood.

The flat had been quiet for the last two days. No John, no Lestrade, no cases. Beyond text messages and phone calls, he hadn't seen her either. "It's fine."

She nodded and stepped further into the flat.

"I stopped by Angelo's and grabbed dinner. I bought enough for you to get some too, Mrs. Hudson," she said. She eyed the experiment covered table before setting the bag down on the coffee table near the couch.

"Oh, that's nice of you dear, but I've just come from an outing with friends. I've already eaten," the landlady replied.

"How nice. I'll have to treat you another time then," Zoe said, putting a hand on Mrs. Hudson's shoulder.

"I'll leave you two to your evening in," Mrs. Hudson said giving Sherlock a pointed look. With a wave, she headed downstairs and the tension in the flat grew.

Zoe moved around Sherlock to grab takeaway trays, plates, and utensils while his eyes followed her. She was avoiding his gaze. _She has something to say but doesn't know how yet_. His brain brought up several options.

 _Going to break up with me._

 _Mycroft is up to something._

 _She's not ready to meet my parents._

After the food, which included lasagna, an assortment of vegetables, and garlic bread, was plated, Zoe grabbed her own tray and the bottle of wine she had bought and sat in John's chair. "Would you mind grabbing some glasses before you sit down, Sherlock? No rush though. You can finish your experiment," she said.

He could tell she was trying to sound nonchalant. He eyed the now lavender colored mixture on the table before his eyes rose to scan her. "It has to sit for a while anyway," he said. When he sat down next to her and placed the glasses on the table, he turned to her. He waited until she finished saying her grace, whispering a low "Amen" before he spoke.

"Spontaneous evenings are not our thing," he said evenly. He watched her reaction, his brain canceling out some ideas and increasing the probability of what she wanted to discuss.

She opened her eyes and met his gaze. "I just thought that after the turn our conversation took earlier, it would be better to talk in person. We wouldn't want anything to get confusing or misconstrued. Unnecessary drama happens that way. I know how you hate unnecessary things," she finished with a tight smile.

He picked up on the pointed way she articulated her last sentence and sighed. He was well aware that his behavior was possibly creating confusion. One minute, he was fine with their relationship being secret. The next, he wondered if the secrecy was for another reason beyond their original decision. It frustrated him because he felt like a teenager all over again. Unsure of himself and his place in a situation, in this case, his place in this relationship. Fear was not something he often let seep into his behavior. He detested the emotions' ability to make one out of character or recklessly. In this case, it was out of character. He didn't often care what others thought of him. But here, his heart which that he rarely put on display, was at risk.

Sherlock was not ignorant of the fact that while people marveled at his work and technique, most who interacted with him were not a fan of what John referred to as his "people skills" or lack thereof. A relationship with him would make people look at her differently and he wondered if she had thought about it herself. He wondered if Lily had told her he was a bad choice for her and her continued success. He had been trying quite a bit to be a decent partner. He had even taken to asking his father for advice on certain matters after Mycroft told them the news. He regularly and thoroughly cleared his internet history so Mycroft wouldn't discover his search for relationship advice. While he was afraid of his heart getting broken, the thought of wasting his time with all of that was also present in his mind. To have his friends worked up only for it to end was an unpleasant thought.

"You're angry with me."

"Angry? No. A bit miffed and a little insulted? Yes," she said.

"Were you followed?" he said.

That response seemed to annoy her as she narrowed her eyes at him before focusing on her food. After she finished a bite of lasagna, she spoke.

"Maybe, maybe not. I wasn't concerned about it," she paused before continuing. "I was concerned about you and any bit of doubt you may have about us. About how I feel about you. We've kept our personal lives out of the media because we decided early on that we wanted the privacy while we could have it. Now, you talk as if I'm going at it from a different angle. That's a bit frustrating," she said looking up at him.

"I can assure you that I am not worried at all about how our relationship looks to anyone else. I would be happy to let the public know that you are my partner, boyfriend, beau. Whatever you want to call it." she said putting her plate down and grabbing one of his hands. They sat in silence for a moment as she thought about how to word her next statement.

He didn't want to interrupt her. He knew she hated that.

"You're different, but I'm not ashamed about that. I'm a little hurt that you'd think I'd be so shallow as to cut you loose when I've shown you how much I care for you, just the way you are. I can handle comments from people who don't understand you or my decision to be with you. If a picture of us or of me showing up here this evening is in the papers tomorrow or we're trending on Twitter in the morning, we'll deal with it together. That's how you handle things when you love someone" she said.

He was silent for a moment, simply staring at her. His bright eyes on her made her fidget a bit. They did not often exchange 'I love you', mostly for his benefit. But, he could always read it in her eyes. A small smile finally appeared on his face. "Are you sure you're ready for my fan club to send you messages," he said giving her hand that still held his a squeeze. He wanted to lighten the mood as the emotion in her eyes was starting to overwhelm him.

She laughed. "I'm just hoping they're sensible people and don't send me anything threatening," she replied with a grin.

"I'd have very serious words with them if they did. I'm not beyond showing up on someone's doorstep," he said seriously.

She grinned before leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek. "The internet would eat that up," she said.

He smiled for a moment before he began more serious.

"I apologize for my words earlier. For a moment, I let doubt cloud my judgment and what I know to be the truth. It is not an error I often make and I will admit to being a bit embarrassed because of it," he said.

Giving his hand a final reassuring squeeze, she let go and picked up her plate. "You're forgiven. Now that that's settled, I'm quite hungry and there's a _Victoria_ marathon on tonight."

Ten minutes into the episode, Sherlock huffed. "I think you're a little too fond of Albert," he said. Zoe giggled and picked up her glass of wine.

"His hair is doing that curly thing that I really like," she said not looking away from the screen. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

An hour later, Zoe's phone chimed with a text message from Lily. It wasn't long until they both had to mute their Twitter notifications. The picture had been of her standing outside of Baker Street after she rung the doorbell. Sherlock even turned off his phone after Mycroft had tried to call twice.

"At least it's a good photo," he said.

"I may have posed a bit for it," she said breaking into giggles. His baritone laughter soon joined.

While the internet debated if she was visiting for a case or if they were friends, they'd surely have their answer when Zoe was spotted leaving in the morning.

* * *

I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter out. Hopefully, I caught any spelling or grammatical errors. Being transparent, the last few months have been a bit everywhere for me between a vacation in August, some family members losing everything in Hurricane Harvey, and then being quite unwell. I've had to change my diet and recently came off of medication. Happy to get back into this especially since it's NaNoWriMo and I started working on a full-length novel. This is a nice break from that. I'm always in a better mood in November because my birthday is this month. The 16th to be exact!

So, Zoe and Sherlock have survived one of their first "arguments", although here they were both adults about it and talked it out. Also, I don't know how the subway/tube system works in the UK with technology, but in the US I've been able to text while on the train whether its when the train stops in a station or the tracks are above ground. Anyways, please review and let me know if there's anything you want to see moving forward.

-K


	4. Dinner Part One

A longer chapter for you lovely loyal people. Read my AN at the bottom. With further ado, Two meetings and an encounter. Enjoy!

* * *

A bell-like chime echoed through the flat just as Zoe finished setting the table. The mahogany wood had been wiped clean and three lavender placemats had been set out. She almost bought fresh flowers to go as a centerpiece but decided that would be a bit much. She wasn't a perfectionist by any means, but her mother had taught her to make it clear that effort had been made when guests were coming over. She laughed internally as she pictured Sherlock's flat when he had clients over. The man didn't lift a finger and she was certain that if it weren't for Mrs. Hudson, he'd be forcing clients to climb over stacks of case files and experiments.

 _"If your house looks the same as it always does when you have guests over, you're not hosting people the right way_." That's what her mother said. Ava Howard's soiree-throwing habits were the exact reason Zoe made sure the warm but sometimes overbearing woman never found out about Pinterest. Her inbox would be full of party decor ideas and recipes and she wouldn't be able to find the important stuff.

Zoe looked up from the table towards Sherlock who sat on the light gray couch near the door. She expected to meet his intelligent gaze; him already knowing what she wanted of him without a verbal request. He did that quite often. So, she was a bit taken aback to find him with his hands steepled beneath his chin, eyes closed, mind wandering inside his self-made palace.

They had been conversing not even five minutes ago. _He can be here one moment and in another world the next,_ she thought with a soft smile.

"Can you make sure that it's Nat and buzz her up?" she asked. She waited a moment to see if he would react.

Like a cat on the prowl, he got up without a sound and pressed the intercom panel on the wall. The screen lit up and showed a live video feed of the front entryway. "If you are not Natalia Rowen, go away," he said.

A laugh bubbled out of Zoe's throat at his unexpected method. He looked over his shoulder at her and shrugged with a half grin.

"Your voice is really deep...sorry, I mean hi," the woman said looking up into the camera. Her auburn hair was gathered at the nape of her neck in a low ponytail.

Zoe's laughter continued as Sherlock buzzed her friend in. "Oh gosh, this is going to be so fun," she said in a sing-song voice. She went to go into the kitchen but quickly turned back to him. "Reminder-"

"Yes, I know. Don't deduce her even if she asks me to," he said. He huffed and leaned back onto the arm of the couch. With his arms crossed over his chest, the navy blue dress shirt he wore pulled taut around his arms and Zoe appreciated the view. His black slacks were without wrinkle as usual.

His sharpness of dress was something Zoe was slightly jealous of on days when she felt like just wearing sweatpants. He made it look effortless. Early on in their relationship, it had made her feel awkward, her in sweats and him showing up dressed as if he had an important business meeting to attend. Although she wanted today to be a laid-back sort of event, she put a little effort into her look even though she had spent most of her day writing in her home office. Natalia was coming from a weekend client event, so she would be in business casual at least. Zoe couldn't be the only one in leggings and a t-shirt so she donned a pair of light-washed jeans that were rolled up around her ankles and an emerald off-shoulder blouse.

"Sherlock," She pleaded, leaning against the entryway.

"I won't deduce her...unless, of course, any of her secrets are harmful to you," he said. She sighed but nodded in understanding. "My only hope is that she isn't boring," Sherlock murmured to himself.

Zoe heard him and shot a glare before she turned and went into the kitchen as the oven's timer beeped, letting her know that the salmon was done. A few moments later, there was a knock at the door. Zoe flew from the kitchen to the front door, much to Sherlock's amusement.

"Hi," she said brightly and a little breathlessly as she opened the door. _I need to start working out again_ , she thought to herself.

Natalia chuckled. "Hey, Zo. Did I show up at a bad time?" she said with a mischevious grin before pulling her shorter friend into a hug.

When they pulled back, Zoe rolled her eyes. "No. Just in a good mood," she explained.

From his angle, Sherlock could tell that Natalia had tugged on her hair due to stress several times throughout the day due to stress at her work event. He silently scanned her but shared none of it aloud. Nothing about the pale woman was concerning.

Zoe pulled back completely from her friend and turned towards him. "Natalia, this is Sherlock. Sherlock, this is my oldest friend, Natalia," she said.

Natalia gave him a small smile. "Hello, Sherlock. Nice to finally meet you," she said. Her smile turned mischevious. "I'm keen on embarrassing Zo with all kinds of stories tonight," she continued.

Sherlock smirked. "I picked up on that when you walked in. It's also unsurprising given the stories she has shared with me about you," he said. Zoe grinned at the pair and took Natalia's blazer to hang up in the front closet. "How about we focus on food first before we share embarrassing stories," she said.

Natalia looked at Sherlock and shrugged before making her way to the table. "I think I can manage to get through a meal without telling him about all your epic fails," she teased.

Zoe playfully huffed and followed. "You're such a good friend. Really, I appreciate it," she said.

* * *

Natalia was nursing a glass of wine as she finished off a slice of red velvet cake after dinner. Sherlock deduced that while she was trying to be relaxed she also didn't want to get drunk and embarrass herself. She was intimidated by him but also examined his every interaction with her friend. While others may have found it annoying, Sherlock appreciated knowing Zoe had someone looking out for her with her sister overseas and her parents living in Scotland after leaving London to enjoy their retirement.

"So, you're very much into science, correct?" Natalia asked.

He nodded. "Did Zoe ever tell you about the time in secondary school when a lab assignment went so wrong that she almost burned down the school?" she continued, her smile widening as she spoke.

"Oh gosh!" Zoe moaned putting her face into her hands. "That was a terrible day," she said, her voice now muffled.

Sherlock couldn't help but grin as Natalia continued. "She put her notes too close to the bunsen burner and the entire desk went up in flames. She wasn't allowed to touch anything for the remainder of the semester," she said.

He smirked as he pictured a younger Zoe frantically throwing water onto her school desk. "Remind me not to ask you to assist on any of my experiments," Sherlock said looking at Zoe.

"I don't think I'd want to get involved with any of that. John mentioned something about thumbs the other day," she replied, visibly shivering.

"Still eating here," Natalia said gesturing to her last bite of cake.

While she would rather not have her adolescent mishaps be the center of attention, Zoe couldn't help but enjoy the fact that Sherlock and Natalia were getting along well enough.

"Oh, you've got to hear the story about the first time we got on the London Eye," Natalia said.

Sherlock leaned forward, interesting in hearing how someone who hated heights as much as Zoe did could ever be persuaded into riding the attraction. He also enjoyed the way Natalia told her stories with flourishes of her arms and a very expressive face. And that's how the night progressed, stories being told back and forth, some at Zoe's expense, others with Sherlock recounting one of his cases and John's failure to capture the full story on his blog. At one point, Natalia had stared him down. He realized that she knew better than to threaten him if he hurt her friend, but her look showed how far she would go to protect her friend if he did something down the line.

At the end of the evening, Natalia let Zoe walk her to her car and gave her approval of her beau.

* * *

Saturday next, Zoe handed Sherlock her overnight bag before climbing into the taxi. She gave a 'good morning' to their driver, a man who appeared to be in his 30s. He gave her a nervous smile and she immediately knew that he was aware of who the pair getting into his taxi were.

Sherlock placed the bag in the trunk before getting in himself. Once the door was closed, he turned and eyed her. Her fingers were tapping her leg and she had already crossed and uncrossed her legs twice.

"Ready for this weekend? Excited?" she said. He cringed. Her voice was an octave higher than it usually was. "What?" she asked, her brows furrowing at his reaction.

"You've had caffeine this morning. You usually avoid it on weekends," he said.

"Well hello to you too," she huffed sitting back as the cabbie took off down Baker Street. "I needed the extra kick to get going this morning. I stayed up a bit late packing," she explained.

"And then repacking," he added lowly.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Are you really surprised? I'm meeting your parents for the first time," she said. She kept her voice low, sneaking a peek at their driver. She didn't really want a recap of their conversation to be trending on Twitter later. She was glad the man had the radio on. "Even when I actually laid down it took me a while to fall asleep," she said lowering her voice.

Sherlock had seen her look and rolled his eyes. "Don't worry about him. He won't be sharing anyone's business. The music works in our favor, especially because he messed up his hearing playing with fireworks as an adolescent," he said in one breath. Before she could comment, he continued. "You've met Lady Smallwood and major media figures," he tried to reason.

"I just want things to go well. People I talk to for interviews aren't there to get to know me personally most of the time. I'm there to tell their stories not for them to know mine. Those connections aren't always long term," she said looking out of the window as the city rushed by. Sherlock had the urge to reach out and hold her hand but didn't as his body seemed to freeze. She didn't continue but he understood what she wasn't saying.

A relationship with his parents would be long-term if their relationship was long-term. As if just realizing it, Sherlock's brain clicked into place with what his heart had been telling him for a while now. This wasn't just any relationship, like the ones John used to involve himself in. What he had with Zoe was something more than that, requiring more effort, more emotion. He could hear Mycroft's comments on sentiment and emotions echoing in his head. But, instead of telling her that he was nervous too, not only about her meeting his parents but the implications of that meeting, he lost control of his mouth for a moment. A moment he was deeply frustrated with himself for giving up. "Are you sure you don't have any writing to get done this weekend or some event you're forgetting?" he blurted.

Slowly, she turned to look at him. Her brown eyes narrowed. "I cleared my entire weekend for this." She continued to stare at him before her head tilted, waiting for him to say something. Sherlock broke eye contact as realization formed in her eyes.

"You're trying to get me to change my mind and cancel, aren't you?" she asked crossing her arms.

"No, of course not," he said raising his hands in a position that looked like a surrender. Wary of losing control of his mouth again, he stayed silent for the rest of the ride.

* * *

After a short train ride, a rented SUV was waiting for them courtesy of Mycroft. Sherlock grumbled knowing it was his brother's way of giving him no excuse. He didn't doubt he brother had even put a listening device in the car. They were given the key and then they were on the road through the countryside. His fumble earlier had resulted in the detective being stuck in the car with a grumpy girlfriend and her Spotify playlist that jumped from Top 40 to classical, to theatrical soundtrack music. She had decided to quietly sing along to anything with lyrics and ignore him, her eyes locked on the passing scenery of trees, grass, and homes.

He knew that in her mind he was seemingly second-guessing their relationship. She was no stranger to his aversion to romance and she was probably fearing that he had finally woken up to the reality of how serious things were getting between them. It also didn't help that her father hadn't taken the news of their relationship well and had called earlier that week to let his opinion be known. In the man's eyes, Sherlock's lifestyle meant nothing but danger for his youngest. She hadn't relayed the entire conversation, simply suggested they give her father time to come to terms with his place in her life. Her mother was excited about meeting him eventually and had reprimanded her husband who wouldn't budge.

There was no second guessing on Sherlock's part, just making his brain came to terms with what his heart and emotions already knew. His eyes flickered down to the dashboard panel. He had estimated when they got the car that they would have enough fuel to get to his parents' house, but that didn't seem to be the case as the gauge was already under a fourth of a tank. _Whatever idiot had filled up the car previously used low-quality petrol._ He wasn't pleased about having to stop in the small town an hour or so from his parents' home. Growing up, they had never really done any business in this area with good reason.

With a sigh, he pulled into the town's only petrol station and cut the engine. In the corner of his eye, he saw her perk up in her seat, pleased that they were stopping. _Tired of sitting and wants a snack. Preferably chocolate or those Twizzler things._

"Please, stay in the car. This shouldn't take long," he said despite knowing his directive would annoy her despite his use of 'please'.

Before Zoe could respond, his seat belt was off and he was outside looking at the options at the pump. Her butt was starting to fall asleep and she really wanted to see if they had some crisps or some kind of snack inside. 'Maybe they have Twizzlers _'_ , she thought to herself. After a minute or so, she decided it shouldn't really be a big deal. She wasn't familiar with the town they were in, but if they had stopped here, it had to be at least decently safe.

At the sound of the car door opening, Sherlock looked away from another woman at a nearby pump.

"I'm going to grab a snack and stretch my legs," she said coming around the back of the truck. "Would you like anything?" she asked with a hand on her hip, as if challenging him to force her back into the four by four.

"No, but be quick," he said flatly.

She frowned at his tone but walked away without saying anything. Sherlock sighed deeply.

As she approached the shop, a blonde-haired man sauntered out of the exit. His complexion reminded her of Sherlock's pale winter look. She gave him a polite smile and in return, he sneered at her, not even attempting to hide his unhappy expression. Instead of holding the door for her, he carried on, letting the door swing closed. She turned sharply and watched the man walk away, her mouth agape. He approached the woman that Sherlock had been staring at. When she closed her mouth, a frown quickly settled onto her face. Was she surprised at the man's action? No. As a woman of color, she had sat in meetings and combated microaggressions in the form of comments about her hair and how nice it was to see someone like her producing such great work. Her sister, Zara, had often shared her experiences while living in America. Zoe had seen the stories on the news herself and figured herself blessed that she didn't often interact with blatantly prejudice people on a regular basis.

As the man prepared to climb into his truck, all of the nerves from meeting Sherlock's parents, her lingering irritation about his move this morning, her father's negativity, and the annoyance of an empty stomach seemed to bubble up. Her hands were balled into fist at her side. She was so focused on the man that she didn't notice Sherlock approaching her.

"His wife is leaving him soon and he'll lose his job by the end of the week," he said. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before stepping back and looking up at him. "That's why you were staring at her?" she asked.

"No, she was nervous after she saw us pull in. Knows her husband is vile and didn't want him to cause a scene. I was reading her to figure out how on guard I should be. Not the best track record in this area. It's why I told you to stay in the car," he said.

"And the job?" she asked keeping her eyes locked on his to avoid catching sight of the blonde man and losing her cool completely.

"T-shirt has the logo of a factory I'm familiar with. Helped out the owner when I was home on break back in Uni. His grandfather is from Cameroon and I'm sure he'd be pleased to know about his employee's views," he said with a smirk.

Zoe took another deep breath and turned to go inside. "I hope your mother has wine," she said before heading into the store.

* * *

When they finally reached their destination, Sherlock didn't immediately get out of the SUV. Zoe, now worried that his early hesitance about today's plan had returned, called his name like a someone carefully approaching a nervous animal. He turned towards her with a determined look in his eye.

"You know I'm not extraordinary when it comes to words or emotions. Better than what I once was, but still adjusting and learning," he said. She angled herself in her seat so she was fully facing him.

"Before we go inside, I want you to know that I'm not hesitant about you. I have nothing to reconsider and no second-guessing to do. Earlier, when you mentioned long-term relationships, my brain froze as if it hadn't realized what I had gotten myself involved in until that moment. My heart made a decision and my brain is apparently still trying to catch up," he continued.

When her silence became too much, he spoke again. "Does that make sense?" he asked. She opened her mouth to speak twice before she could actually get the words out. "If it was anybody else, no. But because you're you, I will say yes," she said. Letting the situation marinade, she shook her head before giving a small smile.

"Right...well good," he said. After a moment of silence, he spoke again. "I would kiss you but I'm sure my mother is spying on us from behind the curtains of the front window."

Zoe whipped around to see if she could catch the Holmes matriarch but didn't see any movement from the home. "She's crafty, my mother," Sherlock murmured with a smirk before getting out of the car.

According to John, Sherlock's parents were nice and she had nothing to be afraid of. That knowledge helped until he had mumbled that even if they didn't like her, they wouldn't be as brash as their sons and say that to her face. Sherlock had sent his friend one of the fiercest glares she had ever seen.

Walking up the brick pathway to their cottage home, Zoe tried to calm herself. _You can do this. You've done the whole meet the parents before. Nobody could be worse than that tosser's mother._

As Sherlock raised a hand to knock on the door, she let her gaze wander to the exterior of the home. It was well kept with blooming flowers still colorful and holding on despite the recent heat wave. There was a tree on the side of the home with a bench underneath. She could imagine the retired couple enjoying the shade together. Zoe's focus was grabbed when Sherlock had barely touched the door before it swung open. Before he could get a word out, he was pulled into the arms of a silver-haired woman. He grumbled and tried to shake himself loose, but it was no use. His mother had gotten a hold of him. Zoe smiled at the warmth the woman exuded.

When the older woman pulled back, the first thing Zoe noticed was her prominent cheekbones. No one could deny the familial resemblance, especially not when she peeked around her son and locked eyes on her. Blue-green eyes that held wisdom and intelligence, accompanied by more warmth than the ones she was used to seeing. Sherlock wasn't always cold with her, but he certainly didn't express his emotions as visibly as his mother.

With a gentle hand, she moved her son to the side and stepped towards his companion. "Hello, dear. I'm Violet Holmes," she said pulling the young woman into a hug. Her vanilla scent was pleasant and reminded Zoe of her own mother.

"Oh, Sherlock. I'm so glad you've found someone. Well, more like you've finally brought someone home. Who knows what you were up to in Uni," Violet said.

Sherlock scoffed. "That's for me to know and me alone. And I believe the correct phrasing would be that I've been forced to bring someone home. I'd be more than pleased to avoid this whole thing," he said.

"Lucky for me, we're here and your mother and I can be cliche and discuss all the adorable moments of your childhood and teenage years," Zoe said grinning at him.

Sherlock groaned. "Please don't."

* * *

I know. I've been gone for a long while. I'm alive. The first part of this year was a big transition. I moved away from home to a new state and started graduate school for advertising copywriting. I put this story on the back burner because from day one we've been buried in assignments on top of the work I'm doing for an internship. Creative post-grad programs are no joke. Sorry, it took me so long to get this up.

Thank you to everyone who's followed and favorited this story and it's prequel while I've been away. I couldn't find any mention of exactly how far away Sherlock's parents live, so I improvised. Also, it hasn't been significant to the plot thus far because I wasn't sure if I wanted to dive that deep or if it would make people uncomfortable, but Zoe's experience at the gas station is similar to one I had as a teenager. Interracial couples still get flack and racism and prejudice exist all around the world both in minor instances and in deep-rooted, nasty ways. Zoe is a woman of color and I didn't want to ignore that, especially as a WOC myself.

I'm working on the next chapters when I can. Hopefully, they'll be up soon. Until then, see you in the reviews!

-K


End file.
